Through the Glass, Darkly
by Lord of Judgement
Summary: "Last I heard," said Gaius, "you were on a hunt for the origins of a rare flower and a few hours later I find you murdering people in the streets. That is extreme even for us." Direct sequel to 'The Other Self' written to a prompt on tumblr. Gaius/Wingul.


**Summary:** "Last I heard," said Gaius, "you were on a hunt for the origins of a rare flower and a few hours later I find you murdering people in the streets. That is extreme even for us."

**Pairings**: Gaius/Wingul.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Tales of Xillia_ world, story or characters.

**Author's Note: **A direct sequel to '**The other self**', but is connected to everything I write in Xillia verse. This is me easing my way into fanfiction in the new year with something quite short.

Special dedication to **auj-oule (innogium)** and written as a prompt on tumblr.

* * *

**List of names I keep from the original Japanese game because their localized version did not click with me at all:**

_Kanbalar – _Khan Baliq

_Auj Oule – _Ajur

_Long Dau_ - Londau

* * *

**THROUGH THE GLASS, DARKLY**

Wingul returned from Labari Hollow, but the feeling of detachment from all matters mundane and governmental continued to haunt him day and night. It wasn't fear, he grew accustomed to fighting it. It wasn't anger or annoyance, he grew accustomed to living with both. His memory was intact once again. It was a particular detachment which unbeknownst to him had taken root deep in his heart; his room, albeit clean, seemed foreign as though menials took away something from it in his absence, not an object of any kind, but a spirit of liveliness, for it couldn't be so that on the bed, on the chairs, on the round table with carved legs there was not a single speck of dust. Wingul despised disorder and dirt, but how he wished to find at least one trace that somebody had once lived here!

Then he looked round, noticing in the corner a tall mirror in a gilded frame. A superstitious maiden had covered its surface with a cloth as though its owner had died. More superstitious folk believed that through mirrors evil entities could open portals from the dark corners of the spirit world. Wingul irritably pulled it off and a thin ray of light came through the window, sparked on its surface, quivering, and in its glow appeared a reflection – no sound, no movement, only a blurred reflection of his face, but it, too, belonged to that foreign entity that lived within him now, with white hair, with impetuous temper, without reason or patience.

Learning to use the booster reminded Wingul of learning how to walk again, one painful, uncertain, helpless step at a time, teetering at the edge of a precipice – one wrong movement and he would fall there. The other self, which was him, too, (and the state of bifurcation was confusing at times), that other self threatened to overtake him once and although he had gained much firmer control over the booster, he could not with confidence say that one day he would not slip, he would not be caught, weak and fatigued, in a state where reversal would not be possible. He would go mad or die from exhaustion.

But, strange to say, Wingul was not afraid of the grim future, he felt indifferent, and perhaps the source of his detachment was that profound indifference towards his own fate, so profound indeed that if the sky opened up, fire rained onto the land and it was announced that the world would soon end, he would spread his arms and stand amidst the chaos with a calm smile on his lips, for his own world had already ended once.

And so Wingul bravely smiled.

***o***

There were times when Gaius could pretend that Wingul's surgery did not bother him. What he saw in Wingul's room at the laboratory did not bother him much either – they lived in worse conditions when their army was on the march. Wingul had chosen a path of noble sacrifice and the least he could offer his self-denying servant, friend and lover was to keep silence for the most part – respectful silence, of course, without a hint of haughtiness or pity. Wingul earned respect, there could be no doubt in anyone's mind that he should have been given such high position at his side, even being the son of a traitor and an oppressor. They used to say it a lot about Lars after he liberated them, a traitor and an oppressor. How quickly people's minds changed, how fickle they were... But, regardless of that certainty, one question still lingered in his mind and Gaius needed to lay his doubts to rest.

A servant opened the door to his chambers to let Wingul in and he at once noticed how thin the latter had become, how pale his skin appeared in soft light, how feverish the glint in his eyes. The unwholesome look suited an emaciated prisoner, not a governmental official, of which (and his discontent) Gaius mentioned to him without delay.

"It's not charming, Your Highness, to greet me so," Wingul laughed. "I took, however, your advice to heart and today ate more than I could remember eating in years. Perhaps, only as a child I ate as much, I mean, of course, in proportion to my size. Nils once told me that I used to be a rather plump child at the age of five or so. How would he remember, being only four years older? I think he was trying to make me regret... mutilating myself, as he said numerously. He annoys me at times."

"Then why don't you send him away?"

"Ah, what for? I'm still quite fond of him... when he isn't repeating himself for an umpteenth time."

Gaius fixed his intent stare on Wingul who, with a detached air, sat, wiggling his foot. "What do you mean by that? Nevermind, it's not altogether important. Tell me... when do you intend to get down to work again? Don't think there is dearth of work or that I will go easy on you because you were sick recently. Rest a bit longer, if you wish, but when you return, I need your unfaltering dedication. There is so much to do you'd hardly have time to sleep."

"I'll rest when I am dead. Who said it, I can't recall? I think it was a renowned statesman from the House of Zmei..." Wingul looked round. "Your Highness, I see your taste of furniture has not improved at all while I was absent. I am talking about that ugly table in the corner. I don't remember seeing it before I left. And the table lamp... No, I was never an admirer of a foppish style, but can't you see that this piece of furniture is too plain and obtrudes itself upon the eye at once?"

"I did order to put it there, but it hardly has any aesthetic value. Don't you recognize it, Wingul? When we laid siege to Khan Baliq, it used to stand in the middle of my tent. We designed intricate strategies on it. It is on this very table that we finally compiled all ideas together for the final assault on the castle we live at today. I ordered to repair it and paint it a different color, but otherwise, it's the same old table which served us quite well. I consider it a symbol of my victory."

"It's quite a cheap symbol... wait, Your Highness, you are joking, aren't you?"

"Of course, I am joking," Gaius replied with a bright gleam in his eyes.

"Or perhaps, you're not joking. If this is indeed the same table which stood inside our tent, then..." Wingul sustained a meaningful pause, running his fingers along the edges as if to make certain that he did not mistake the old familiar table for another.

"Yes, I believe we did once."

"Once, he says. Once, twice, and then some. If my memory doesn't fail me, that is, you enjoyed making love to me in this pose... I think I understand your not so intricate reasoning. I would have kept this ugly piece of furniture, too. It's a good reminder of something we lost once we conquered Ajur. It's an intangible something, something that is not easily put into words... and yet something quite simple. Don't say anything, I know you felt it yourself." He made a low bow. "Is my audience over, Your Highness?"

"Stop this nonsense, there are two of us in this room. This meeting is informal... but there is something we have to talk about." Gaius turned to the window, resting his palms on the windowsill. He could see his dim reflection in the dark. "You're not going to like it."

"Don't torment me then, say it!"

"It isn't my intention. But, listen, I did not lie when I said that Jiao would be useful to you. I employed him for you, so that you won't have to overstrain your nerves. There is just you and me now tasked with a monumental task to establish a new rule in our kingdom. This isn't a duty which anyone can take lightly. There are many others who work for me, but my personal trust... in whom can I invest fully? That man, Jiao... he proved himself very competent. He made amends in Kitarl tribe for killing the patriarch by becoming the new ruler and his loyalty to me is unquestionable. That was his path, he realizes it now." Wingul, to his surprise, listened in silence. "I know he inflicted you a personal injury. But when we talked, he appeared remorseful and when he learned about your condition and your motivation to overcome it, even at such high a cost, he relented. He expressed a sincere desire to apologize. No harm will be done if he apologizes. Now more than ever I believe you are in dire need of his assistance."

"I'll think about it," Wingul said softly.

"I already gave out the necessary orders. Jiao, or should I say Ortega Kitarl, is your subordinate now. I earnestly insisted he meet you tomorrow in a tavern by the southern gate which overlooks Mon Highlands. It's a good place to settle grudges amicably away from the prying ears of the inhabitants of the royal castle."

"And what am I to do with him? The resistance waned with Merad's death. King Nachtigal does not hurry to invade us so as to correct the mistake of his fellow king and avenge the shaken prestige of the hereditary monarchy. Besides, he would make a terrible spy, with his height and memorable appearance. I am not certain of his knowledge in all matters related to military and I am the best strategist you have. I do not require his assistance..."

"It is done, Wingul. Meet with him, talk to him. Although he condemned my efforts in the past, claiming they bring nothing but death and suffering to the people, his perspective changed; he has inherent wisdom in him and kindness. Ask him his opinion on the current questions."

...Wingul seamlessly changed the subject of the conversation, but Gaius was nevertheless at that moment reassured that his adviser would meet Jiao despite – or perhaps because of – the reluctance he showed in their conversation. It was that strange trait of his. He would always make a sacrifice, but before he committed himself fully, to satisfy his wounded pride, he resisted as if to be able to say to himself afterwards that although he yielded, he yielded honorably on his own terms.

***o***

In the morning, as Gaius would doubtlessly be pleased to learn, Wingul indeed went to the inn by the southern gate of Khan Baliq to meet Jiao. In early Efreeta, it was habitually cold in northern Ajur, but people contrived to bring their beloved traditions from warmer places to the snowbound, never-changing vast which stretched beyond Mon Highlands. Their presence was more acutely felt at the central square where by every fifth or so house flowers bloomed in small pots and flower beds with the aid of fire artes. Wingul passed the square to get to the inn and his mood brightened a bit.

Jiao awaited him inside, in the warm room on the second floor by the only round table. His large figure in a long yellow coat adorned with fur burst upon the eye at once, although the room was filled with customers, since it was the only bright color visible from the threshold. It stood out more than his beard and a rather odd hat he wore on his head; it stood out, an oddity in itself, that bright yellow color. Jiao's presence aroused misgivings in him and spiteful irritation, for which he reproached himself albeit not sincerely.

"I am Jiao," Jiao introduced himself with a polite nod when he approached. The giant's voice was deep and surprisingly pleasant. "Ortega Kitarl of Kitarl tribe, if you wish, but the king gave me an alias and I used it ever since. I had to abandon my real name... So, master Wingul... did you come to accept my apology?"

"Call me simply Wingul." He beckoned a waitress and ordered a glass of napple juice.

"Are you ready to listen to what I have to say... Wingul? Our last meeting wasn't a mere coincidence. I wanted solitude, I did not want more bloodshed or pain, but I did not care to wound you. I was blinded by bitterness and hatred towards everything our king fought for, seeing it as a fickle whim, a pointless struggle which would bring us more misery than we have already endured. And people of Ajur endured enough suffering for many generations to come. I was responsible for murdering the patriarch of Kitarl, as surely you must know by now. Then I spent years, fighting and being chased until a family gave me shelter. A lovely family. And then they, too, were murdered. I've seen it in my own eyes and I am at fault for it. They had a daughter, a child. I apologize if I am responsible for your pain, but then I could bear my pain if I blamed someone for it, someone other than myself. Tell me... Wingul, is the new world His Highness intends to build worth the tears of that one orphaned child?"

"You humiliated me, but it wasn't just humiliation... I am used to humiliation. You humiliated me..." _...in front of him._ Wingul couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. "Ah, it doesn't matter now. You asked me if Ajur is worth her tears? Yes, it's worth her tears and tears of many more orphaned children. It is worth mine. But you asked a moot metaphysical question. There is no place for such questions in the mind of someone who is dedicated to ruling a country. How many children would in a distant future cry if Gaius didn't rebel against Merad? Answer that question for yourself. I don't deal with possibilities."

There was a look of profound grief on Jiao's face and he turned away without uttering a word. So they sat until waitress brought him a glass of juice. Then Jiao resumed speaking. "I hear what you say, but it is hard for me to accept it. The Lutus' family did so much for me... I wish I could return the favor and find their daughter. I know she is still alive."

"The Lutus' family?" Wingul did not understand what prompted him to take interest in Jiao's quest to absolve himself from moral blame, he felt no pity towards him, but he heard himself asking the question and decided to finish the thought which has just occurred to him. "What was their daughter's name?"

"Elize. Elize Lutus."

"Heaven favors you today, Jiao. I know where to find her. She was at Labari Hollow with me, admitted there with other orphans as a test subject. We barely spoke, but I recall that name very clearly."

"A test subject? She is a little girl!"

"What you are thinking right now... the mad scientist's lab, the inhumane experiments, it never happened as you imagined. She lives in a laboratory, among other orphans, but she does not suffer. I suffered for every single one of them, every single child. The booster lodged in my brain is a part of me now. Those children do not have to experience misery, don't you see? They found a more effective, less painful way to give them a booster. That girl carries hers inside a toy. It was Nils's suggestion, a third generation booster. She doesn't have headaches, she doesn't bleed..."

"I don't understand how... I... But these are old man's rambling thoughts," Jiao smoothed out his beard. "I don't understand how you can be so calm and unaffected by these wrong actions. I have no power to change what has been done to the Lutus' family, but at least I can help her. Can I see her?"

And then it dawned on Wingul that fate had kindly presented him with an answer to his previous doubts. He did not know what he would assign Jiao to do, except for his strength, he saw no use for him, and at the same time to alleviate that gnawing pain in the old scar, he cherished a slightly malicious intent to send the giant far away from the court, to consign him to oblivion and cease worrying about him. "Then you wouldn't mind taking care of that lab, would you?" Wingul asked. "You'll see the girl again."

"I would gladly do what you ask of me. If you were in my place, ridiculed for your unusual height and... ridiculed for so long, and then you'd find a place where you were accepted, where you belonged, only to have it taken away from you... I am going to do what you ask. I am going to travel to Labari Hollow, with your permission, tomorrow."

"Of course, you have my permission." The waitress brought him another glass of juice and Wingul noticed that there was a flower in his drink. It was a delicate white blossom on a long stem and it was neatly put there on purpose. What purpose? Before he could ask the question which flashed in his mind aloud, the girl had walked away. He looked round the room.

"You must have admirers, master Wingul."

"I never realized I was loved in Khan Baliq," he replied mockingly.

"Perhaps that girl doesn't know who you are. She saw a handsome face and... you know how young girls think. It's Efreeta. Everyone celebrates love in Efreeta."

"I'm not interested. What interests me, however, is where this flower came from. I can't recognize it. It's not a lily or a snowdrop. You see, I consider myself quite fond of flowers. I should recognize one just by looking at it." Wingul gave the unexpected present another thoughtful glance and rose. "His Highness awaits me at the palace. Meet me there for the final instructions in the afternoon."

By the entrance door, where he paid for the drinks, Wingul asked the waitress if she knew who slipped the flower into his glass, but the girl seemed preoccupied with her troubles and genuinely unaware of any suspicious or curious individuals who might have taken an interest in him. He lied and lied rather bluntly to Jiao – no one was expecting him at the palace at this hour. The sun was in zenith in all its resplendence and the air smelled of crisp frost and euphoric freedom. Wingul never thought freedom had a smell and color before he found himself imprisoned within the four walls covered by yellow wallpaper with mold marks where he learned what misery smelled and tasted like.

In truth, Wingul was heading towards a small flowershop in the residential ward of Khan Baliq. An old man who sold flowers there was a recent acquaintance of his. If he did not know where the mysterious blossom came from, Wingul would resort looking into the encyclopedia of plants he owned. This insignificant mystery excited him and he almost forgot about his misgivings and troubles.

The owner of the shop lived in a small room on the second floor of the two-storeyed building, but it was a cozy small room and it somehow suited its owner, for the lack of a different word. The old man was thin and short, he wore simple flaxen attire and his surroundings were rather simple. Walls of his room were hung with dried herbs of different kind, which flung around a strange but pleasant fragrance – Wingul recognized refreshing smell of mint, sweet and heady scent of chamomiles, and a deceiving aroma of wormwood which was known for its use in medicine, especially for certain stomach conditions.

"What have you come here for, master Wingul?" Asked the shop owner, seating himself onto the chair with a groan.

"I wanted to ask you whether you knew anything about a particular flower I have never heretofore seen." With caution, Wingul unwrapped a scarf he wore around his neck and procured a white flower. "I wondered whether you have encountered this particular specimen. I admit its beauty intrigues me."

The old man scrutinized the flower and shook his head. "This is a very rare Undis crocus, but may I ask where you found it, master Wingul, for you are not the only one who came to ask me about it? There was another young fellow very much interested in this particular... specimen."

"When?"

"A few days ago, a young fellow your age came here to inquire me about a flower which looked just like yours. He also wanted to know who around here sells these particular flowers. I told him that there is only one person who grows them in northern Ajur and it is a fine lady indeed, a daughter of one of the former nobles who used to serve our late king Merad. After the war, which took the life of her father and her husband, she settled by the northern gate of Khan Baliq in a small house to live her life in peace and to forget the sorrows of her youthful life. She is a good and worthy lady, master Wingul."

"And the fellow you were talking about? What did he look like?"

"He was a young man around your age, tall, thin, with light-brown hair. A handsome fellow. I don't know his name, but he wore an emblem above his heart, an eagle with spread wings..."

Wingul listened not a moment longer.

***o***

"Where is Wingul?" Gaius asked Jiao with an exasperated expression but without a slightest hint of irritation in his voice. The king's ability to create an ambiguous impression on his servants regarding his opinion about a particular issue, that disparity between the tone of his voice, gestures, expression and the true meaning of his words, often kept the menials and ministers guessing, in fear, whether they satisfied him or not. "He was supposed to meet with me later today for a glass of _Daybreak_ wine and a game of shogi. He never misses those opportunities."

"When we parted, he said he was going to the palace. He had given me a worthy assignment, Your Highness."

"He knows what he is doing, that's why I chose him to assist me in everything. He is quick on the uptake and punctual. It isn't like him at all to be so late," Gaius pulled his hair up into a ponytail and outstretched his legs onto a small stool. "Tell me, what delayed him."

"I am not sure what you want me to say."

"What did you talk about? Did something unusual happen while you conversed?"

"I cannot recall anything useful, Your Highness... but perhaps..." Jaio sustained a thoughtful pause, gathering his thoughts. "As we sat at the inn, a waitress brought him a glass of juice with a flower in it which he couldn't recognize. I thought it was from a bashful girl, but he outright denied that possibility. He seemed more curious about the flower itself than the person who gave it to him. I cannot imagine how this may be useful..."

"Wingul wouldn't pass up an opportunity to learn something new about flowers. I've known him long enough to say that this is where we will find him. Do you know of any flower shops around Khan Baliq? I lack knowledge about my own capital, it seems."

"I'm not sure I'm the right man to ask for assistance. With my past, I did not have time to court ladies."

"Then find someone who does. I had important matters to discuss with him over a glass of wine. His prolonged absence did not make it easier for me to rule Ajur and news has just reached me that King Nachtigal purged the ranks of nobility of its most influential members. The carelessness he displayed upon return leaves me in wonder whether he lost ambition and motivation in that accursed laboratory. Return to me when you hear news about his whereabouts."

***o***

If Wingul knew what kind of commotion his absence from the castle stirred, he would have returned momentarily – or, maybe, he would not, since he began to suspect that he did not receive that exotic flower by chance and if he did not receive it by chance, then there was purpose behind the action, an intent, and in all likelihood neither the action nor the intent was as innocuous as it first seemed.

As he waited by the mysterious woman's house, freezing and cursing the cold in Londau, Wingul had time to recall the morning incident in details a few times. Something disturbed him. If it wasn't a chance event, then who and for what reason would give him a flower with such secrecy? The involvement of former nobility gave this matter a sinister cast; whenever Merad's name was mentioned, Wingul couldn't help but feel certain suspicion. Merad opposed them for years. Merad died in battle, but some of his followers were still alive and some clan leaders remained unruly.

Thinking so, Wingul almost missed a moment when two men emerged from semi-darkness. Their silhouettes, aglow with the light of street lamps, could be seen from afar on a desolated street. They did not even attempt to hide; they conversed loudly and walked in the middle of the street despite it being unsafe to walk there in case a large wagon were to pass by. Wingul breathed onto his hands to warm them and pressed himself to a wooden wall of a house, blending with the shadows. The roof had a silvery shimmer to it and on one edge hung huge icicles, glistening in dying sunlight.

And then something unpredictable happened. There was a thought which faded out of Wingul's mind almost completely, but as he watched a brief commotion unfold before his eyes, it began to gnaw at him with renewed strength. What if he received a flower by mistake and it wasn't meant for him at all? What if it was a result of confusion, of cursed luck? If it was so indeed, then the flower could be meant for Jiao who was either genuinely clueless or, quite the contrary, well-informed of its significance.

As the reader might have guessed, it was Jiao who interrupted the tranquility of a cold evening. He appeared on the road in front of the mysterious house when the two joyous strangers approached it and he was so noticeable that they did not pass by him, but stopped and entered into a conversation with him. Wingul could not discern what was said, but when swords were drawn and the pair attacked Jiao, he revealed himself. They never stood a chance against the giant, but when Jiao raised his hammer to deliver a deadly blow, Wingul stopped him.

"Wait, Jiao, we will need to interrogate and search them. Why did they attack you? Did they mention a rare white flower?"

"That's what they asked about before they drew their swords. Why is it important?"

"You shouldn't have come," Wingul objected sharply to any further questioning. Then he meticulously searched the wounded. In the pocket of a taller youth, he found a small, neatly folded note, which appeared to be a page out of a diary. He unfolded it, but as he read further and further, a feeling of dread came over him. He thought everyone had forgotten by now, but somehow the secret had become known to this brat and he bragged about being useful to the brotherhood and intending to reveal it tonight, as if this secret was something to toy with. Wingul wasn't aware that his hair had suddenly turned white, like pristine snow around them, that his hand reached for the sword, that he unsheathed it and its handle seemed so hot it burnt through his skin and bone. He raised it, with a distorted ugly smirk on his face, and despite Jiao's protests ('You said you needed them for a thorough investigation!') slit their throats. He regained his senses on the ground, when the cold stone touched his burning forehead, sat up, clutching the bloody note in his fist, trembling all over and wondering if this sudden impulse was another side-effect from the booster he sometimes had little control over or this murderous rage was his own, wondering when he became so easily swayed by rage and knowing that the secret had to die there, on the snowbound street of Khan Baliq.

"Wingul! Can you hear me?"

He struggled to his feet and picked up his sword. "They were traitors, they had to be executed on spot, I changed my mind."

"Something I would agree with if we knew everything about who these traitors were. Care to explain yourself, Wingul?"

Gaius slipped out of the shadows and behind him loomed a few soldiers from the royal guard. He was clearly displeased, the passionless expression on his face would have fooled anyone but Wingul. After the king ordered the soldiers to take care of the dead bodies, he turned to them.

"I am going to need an explanation. Last I heard you were on a hunt for the origins of a rare flower and a few hours later I find you murdering people in the streets. That is extreme even for us."

"Your presence here explains everything," said Wingul, stuffing the note into his pocket.

"This isn't the time for witty sarcasm. I trust your judgment and that is the only reason both of you are not in jail."

"How did Jiao find this house? How did you?" Gaius and Jiao exchanged quick glances, but said nothing. "Both of you followed the same trail I followed after I received this sign. Now I am certain it was not a gift, neither was it intended for me." He twirled the withering crocus in his hand and threw it onto the snow with disgust. "Who was it intended for? I do not know. Jiao could be the recipient, but he is innocent. Whoever lives in this house is a part of a conspiracy between the surviving nobles with the goal to overthrow you, Your Highness. Maybe, that is their goal. I don't know... I am only certain that it isn't a harmless conspiracy. Every potential ally received a flower as a gift, a rare flower, and when they attempted to find out where it came from, their curiosity led them to the flower shops and ultimately to this very house."

"Then why didn't you interrogate them?" Gaius swiftly pointed in the direction of two dead bodies. "If Rats are involved, it would complicate everything even further."

"That's how I thought at first, but I couldn't leave them alive." He whispered a few words into Gaius's ear. "Now you understand why I cannot talk about it here."

The king nodded and on their way to the castle neither had uttered a single word.

***o***

It was almost midnight and Wingul could not sleep. His head ached terribly, his forehead burnt notwithstanding the efforts of a castle healer, and he cursed his inability to restrain himself from using a booster. He thought he was healed, but in truth he wasn't, yet at the same time, he was at peace with himself, facing a possibility of spending another day bedridden. What he did that night wasn't in vain, after all.

What healed him quicker than any healing arte? What soothed him if not a balm? Before he retired for the night, Gaius found him and Wingul, in truth, needed so little – his head against the king's chest and a whisper, reaching him despite the searing pain, 'Thank you for protecting my sister.'


End file.
